Potatoes

i was told to blog about hot tubs, and really, it was a good idea, but i decided instead to write about potatoes. don't ask me why. i just decided that writing about a person's decision to willingly boil themselves slowly was odd, and rather creepy. speaking of creepy, this video
is very creepy. it scares the absolute crud out of me, but it's strangely catchy, and got itself stuck in my head. arg.
ok, back to the task at hand. potatoes are strange things. really, what else has multiple eyes, yet cannot see? or grows in the dirt, and sprouts little green things if you leave it in the sun? amazing i tell you, amazing... buuuut, maybe that's just me and my easily amused mind. "simple minds, simple pleasures!" as one good friend often chirps at me.
digging up potatoes is another amazing venture. i did that once. actually, more than once, but i'm only going to tell you about one single time that i did. my maternal figure plopped a plastic bag in my hand and said, "Fetch!"
being an obedient child, i did. rummaging around in the dreaded garage, i managed to unearth some sort of digging utensil. uselessly tugging some more buckets, i discovered a mouse-chewed glove, and decided that was all i really needed to get my potatoes.
the garden was in a box. one of them boxes that rested on the ground, but the wooden edge was ten inches high all around it. now, while these boxes look aesthetically pleasing for the most part, they're really most uncomfortable to pick potatoes in. awkwardly, i knelt on the ground, wincing as the gravel cut into my unprotected knees. i leaned over the box ledge, and winced again as splinters dug into my stomach. i fumbled around for a couple minutes, and then finally gave up, and just sat in the box. too late, i realized that sitting in the box also meant sitting in the dirt, but thankfully, i was wearing shorts that allowed for this kind of gross negligence.
settling into my potato picking position, i began the search. now, potatoes are kinda tricky, they don't show themselves willingly. you must begin at the green stem that shows above ground. then, slowly, you must dig at the base, searching for the clusters of hard red vegetables.
i began this process as a true novice. yanking at a green stem, i was astonished when i found myself seated heavily in the dirt with only a forlorn handful of leaves. approaching the broken stem, i poked at it, and realized that these potatoes did not want to be pulled. adamant, i firmly told them that i was in charge, and that they were only dumb potatoes, that needed to be pulled. apparently, they didn't believe me.
i changed tactics. it was time to get down and dirty with these vindictive vegetables, so i jabbed my trowel viciously in the dirt. *gasp* what is this? i felt something!! jabbing a little harder, i skilfully fished my trowel out of the ground, while still keeping my prize on at the end.
holding my trowel aloft, i crowed in triumph as i unspeared the potato firmly lodged on the end. tossing the golf ball sized root in my bag, my elation subsided a bit as i noticed that i had a long way to go before my bag was filled.
with a new determination, i dug harder and faster, only to be rewarded with fierce struggles. exasperated, i threw down my trowel, ripped off my holey glove, and flung my freshly painted nails to the wind. clawing my way through the dirt like a mad woman, i snatched potatoes off of the root with a fury like none they had ever seen. after several long and grueling minutes, my sack was finally full, and i was able to bring them back for further accolades.
and now, i shall abruptly end. because i have six pages of writing due in nine hours that i have failed to do as of yet.

~M.R.P.